


B(rock) Bottom

by tumble4rpdr



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumble4rpdr/pseuds/tumble4rpdr
Summary: “You want to fuck me?” Brock asked skeptically, the idea both surprising him and making his stomach flutter like the wings of a hummingbird.“And what would be so wrong with that?” Jose challenged slightly affronted.Before Brock could apologize and explain himself Jose continued.“I wasn’t lying when I said I taught Silky everything she knows. And I knew what I was doing when you was giving it to me, case you forgot.”After finding out that Brock wants to try bottoming, Jose volunteers to help. Brock reluctantly lets him but not without the fear of their feelings getting in the way.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by B’s We’re Having Gay Sex podcast interview and V bragging about how she taught Silky how to bottom. I briefly refer to V as “she” when she’s in drag but the rest of the fic uses male pronouns because they’re both their boy selves. I wrote this with the goal of showing that being able to and comfortable with bottoming (or sex in general really) can be both emotional and physical (more emotional in B’s case) and that when it comes to B and V sex is always tangled in some level of feelings (at least in my opinion-and to work with the plot of this fic). Thank you in advance to everyone who reads abs comments on this and know that your encouragement and acknowledgement of my writing means the world. Oh, and don’t worry, part two is coming soon💜

Brock laid on his couch, stretching out his long legs that were still slightly sore from his early morning hike. He scrolled through his phone as Henry stayed burrowed inside his sweatshirt, only taking his eyes off the small screen to press gentle kisses to the top of his cat’s head. Brock’s fingers stood still for a moment as he caught sight of Vanjie’s newest picture from her seemingly never ending Instagram photo shoot. He licked his lips as her took in her powerful thighs and the intensity of her gaze and the relaxed confidence she carried both as Vanjie and as Jose. He hit “like” and quickly moved on to the next image before the consuming stare that had once looked so passionately upon him ultimately pierced his walled in heart.

The next picture was not nearly as seductive but was still just as dangerous. Vanjie still looked just as gorgeous but there was a softness, her smile warming his chest like when he would bundle up in the cold Canadian winter before heading off to school. The delighted, genuine look on her face was enough to make Brock cuddle further into Henry as if his fur would be able to mask the tender grin that was overtaking his face. Before he could tap on the heart icon and maybe go as far as leaving some emojis in the comment section, Jose’s face appeared on his phone as it began vibrating, as if the device was taking on all the energy and enthusiasm that made Jose who he was. 

Brock quickly answered the FaceTime call and was met with a snow white smile and eyes the color of homemade hot chocolate, both of which enveloped him in memories of comfort and kindness and made his grin grow even wider.

“Hey Big Guy,” Brock greeted him, the nickname easily though unintentionally falling from his lips.

“Hey boo,” Jose replied as his face took on a questioning look. “What you doing to my baby over there? Henry!” Jose yelled loudly, cupping his mouth with his hands. “You being held hostage by a scruffy Canadian drag queen? Meow once for yes and twice for no!” 

Upon hearing his name from a familiar voice, along with being tired of being trapped in Brock’s hoodie, Henry let out a soft yet whiny cry as he fidgeted against Brock’s chest.

“You seeing this Thackery?” Jose asked in mock outrage as he scooped up his chubby, oversized cotton ball of a baby and held him in his arms as he sat up in his bed. “Big bad Brockie won’t let the nice little kitty go. Let my brother go!” Jose exclaimed, taking on a high pitched voice as he hid behind Thackery. “Let him come over and cuddle with us. Jose’s a much better cuddler.”

Brock rolled his eyes before letting out a laugh while looking upon Jose’s teasing smirk. The rumbling of his chest made Henry squirm even more, making Brock lift up the sweatshirt and finally release him.

“See? He running his fluffy ass on over to our place,” Jose grinned.

“Are my cuddling skills now being called into question?” Brock jokingly retorted.

“Fuck if I remember Toes. It’s been more than a minute since I was getting my snuggles from you,” Jose playfully countered.

Brock let out a forced chuckle while trying to control his now pounding pulse; the innocuous comment gripping his heart too easily as he felt it constrict with each breath. He briefly saw Jose looking at him in confusion and immediately cleared his throat and moved on, despite the remaining pang in his chest.

“And how’s my baby doing?” Brock inquired, knowing the best way to change the topic was to ask about Thackery.

“Bitch, you already know he perfect. Just look at him,” Jose beamed as he held up Thackery’s perpetually grumpy face to the phone screen before releasing him to jump off the bed. “Now speaking of pussy,” Jose grinned. “I hear you’d love to bottom, huh Tinkerbell?”

“So that’s my new nickname now?” Brock flirtatiously joked despite feeling his cheeks heat up.

“Depends,” Jose replied innocently.

“Depends on what?”

“If you looking to trade in your Canadian bacon for a little spicy chorizo,” Jose answered, his efforts to be serious and sexy thwarted by his giggle and the childlike sparkle in his eyes.

“Classy,” Brock scoffed, despite the grin on his face. “So I’m guessing you heard the podcast?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jose gleefully nodded. “You sure do love talking ‘bout sex. But we been knew ‘bout that.”

Brock knew the blush of his cheeks must have deepened, like a strawberry ripening in the sun. It normally didn’t bother him to talk openly about sex, making blunt comments or flirty jokes something he actually enjoyed, but this time it was different. 

“Don’t go getting all koi fish on me now Twinkle Toes,” Jose kindly yet sassily encouraged. “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about. You just got an itch that needa be scratched, and I’m gonna use my claws on ya,” he finished assuredly.

“You want to fuck me?” Brock asked skeptically, the idea both surprising him and making his stomach flutter like the wings of a hummingbird.

“And what would be so wrong with that?” Jose challenged slightly affronted. 

Before Brock could apologize and explain himself Jose continued. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I taught Silky everything she knows. And I knew what I was doing when you was giving it to me, case you forgot.”

That was the problem: Brock didn’t forget, he couldn’t. At the mere mention of their past encounters images filled his mind like an erotic scrap book, as he remembered Jose writhing in pleasure beneath him. 

“And I could help you get it right for that future husband of yours,” Brock heard Jose say.

Like a sharp needle letting the air out of a balloon, Brock’s fantasies deflated as he thought back to what else he had said during the interview. _I could see myself marrying you._ Brock wondered for days afterward what made him say such a thing about someone who was definitely not his person. He chalked it up to remembering what it was like to be in a relationship again, no matter how it ended. The relief he felt knowing that he was capable of feeling dainty and trusting and passionate and hopeful, even if he wasn’t with the right man. He was able to rationalize his comment, almost forget about it even, but now as Jose brought it up, clearly believing Brock could be that interested in someone else, it felt like ripping off a scab and creating a fresh wound all over again.

“I-, he-, it’s not-,” Brock tried to explain but the words died on his tongue. “I’ve just never felt comfortable,” he shamefully murmured instead, his mouth finding the reason he never bottomed easier to admit than rationalizing an almost husband.

“Hey,” Jose said much more quietly than before. “You know you ain’t got nothing to be afraid of right? There ain’t no judgement here. Just some teasing between friends,” he promised with a reassuring smile. Jose looked so genuine and radiant that Brock couldn’t help but smile back and join Jose in his warm glow.

“So you ready for this?” Jose questioned kindly. “You trust me?”

Brock did, more than anything in the world.

“Alright,” Brock reluctantly replied despite the giddy expression on his face. “You convinced me.”

“I knew I’d get you,” Jose cheered with gleeful certainty. “I’m telling you I’m the bottoming master, baby. You gon be taking dicks left, right, and center after I’m done whipping your ass into shape. Literally,” Jose cackled as Brock huffed out an incredulous breath while struggling not to smile. “And you won’t have nothing to do but sit back, relax, and let me work my magic,” Jose boasted. “Besides, ain’t like there’s anymore romantical feelings between us,” Jose assured him. “So you don’t got nothing to lose.”

Brock frowned and was about to reply before a crash and a faint meow could be heard behind Jose who quickly said goodby and abruptly ended the call.

What Jose said was true he supposed but hearing the words leave his mouth surprisingly made Brock’s chest ache, as if his heart was suddenly wrapped in barbed wire. Jose had asked if he trusted him and he did, but with the way he was currently feeling he didn’t know if he could trust himself. He was eager yet scared, turned on yet anxious, questioning yet certain of Jose and his reassurances. It was that certainty Brock decided to focus on as he texted Jose later that day to ask when he was free to meet up.

———

They were together on Brock’s bed. They weren’t completely naked yet but Brock still felt just as vulnerable, like his fears and his heart and his insecurities were on display in a gallery, ready to be judged by presumptuous patrons. Brock tried to reason with himself that this was Jose, his Jose, and if there was one thing he knew it was that he was never out to hurt him. Though in Brock’s tangled mind that knowledge almost made it worse, causing him to remember all the times Jose had showed him kindness and understanding, let him be himself even at the end.

And then there was the thought of Jose’s touch, of his delicate, measured caresses that awoke all of Brock’s passion and arousal no matter how subtle, like a single match illuminating the way out of a dark and gloomy cave. Brock had never stopped envisioning the ways Jose touched and grasped and captured him, thinking of him when he stroked himself a more than common occurrence. Brock wondered what Jose’s hands would feel like now, what they would feel like inside him, in places he himself had almost never dared. Dread now took the place of arousal in Brock’s chest and he struggled to breathe, his memories and anxieties turning the wings of the butterflies in his stomach to stone, the weight almost too much to bear. 

It was at that moment that Brock felt Jose’s soft hand cover his, as if putting a lid on the boiling cauldron of apprehension and doubt that bubbled in his mind and threatened to overflow.

“You okay?” Jose asked tenderly as he kept Brock’s hand in his grasp and squeezed.

“Yeah,” Brock replied weakly as his breathing evened out. “I’m just getting ahead of myself.”

“Well you better tell yourself to slow the fuck down cause we ain’t even started nothing yet,” Jose brashly replied with a glint in his eyes that Brock couldn’t help but mirror. “Now I know it ain’t that fine ass body that’s shaking you up since you been all over the Gram showing off those new Pilates abs,” Jose smirked as Brock turned away bashfully. “And whatever else you got up there getting your brain all turnt is exactly what I’m here to help with. I ain’t gonna let nobody mess with you, not even you.”

With that Jose, who was wearing nothing but a pair of tight lime green briefs, motioned for Brock, who had only taken his shirt off, to finish removing his clothes.

“I already seen it all, remember?” Jose teased. “Your little Mountie can’t do nothing that’s gonna surprise me.”

“Little?” Brock challenged with a raised bushy eyebrow as he stood to pull off his sweats.

“Okay, your big satisfying Mountie,” Jose replied exasperatedly but with a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Happy? Now lay down on the bed Mary.”

With a chuckle, Brock took off his pants and underwear in one go and laid down on the sheets, finding himself slightly more relaxed.

“Now close your eyes,” Jose advised as Brock inhaled deeply and followed his command.

He heard Jose’s feet on the wood floor as he made his way to the other side of the bed and climbed in, making the mattress dip as he crawled closer and closer to Brock. Brock sensed Jose run the tips of his fingers across his chest and down his stomach before placing his palm on the inside of Brock’s muscular thigh and pushing, trying to get his legs open. Brock’s eyes scrunched even further closed as his body tensed up, his hands balled into fists as he struggled to keep his arms at his sides.

Jose kept his hand where it was as he leaned over Brock, just close enough for Brock to feel the faint brush of Jose’s exhales before they dispersed into the air in the room.

“You handsome, you strong, you capable,” he heard Jose recite in a low, even voice. “You cool, calm, and collected and there’s nothing worth fucking up the joy of getting fucked.”

Brock snorted out a laugh as he opened his eyes and sat up.

“What are you doing?” Brock questioned in amused disbelief.

“I’m trying to get your uptight ass to loosen up,” Jose retorted as if it were obvious. Brock glanced down at his lower half before he heard Jose snapping his fingers to get his attention back on him.

“Ho, get your mind outta the gutter. That’ll open up once you do, so just slow your roll.”

“This is your world renowned bottoming technique?” Brock asked while still attempting to suppress his giggles. “Telling people you think they’re hot and reminding them that sex feels good?”

“It ain’t that simple,” Jose defended as he got up from the bed. “And it don’t matter what I think. Winning first place in the bottoming Olympics is only 20% butt and 80% brain.”

Brock snickered but quickly covered his mouth as Jose glared at him, showing that he’d let him finish, no matter how ridiculous this all sounded.

“You gotta get yourself right first before you letting anyone else into you,” Jose reasoned. “You needa be so self-assured that there’s not anyone that can touch you, that way you can finally be chill enough for when they do.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried to relax before?” Brock asked as he plopped his head back down on his pillow. “It just never works.”

“Aren’t you the queen who dedicated two lives to just sitting there meditating?” Jose replied. “Least with my version you’ll get a happy ending,” he smirked.

“You watched those?” Brock questioned as he returned the other man’s grin. “I’m surprised you could sit still for so long.”

“Bitch don’t get cute,” Jose admonished as he put his hand on his hip. “You want my help or not?”

“Yes Papi,” Brock answered, knowing the nickname would help placate him and liking the way it sounded as he looked at an underwear-clad Jose.

“Now let’s try this again,” Jose began as he climbed back into the bed. “And this time no laughing,” he warned as Brock closed his eyes once more.

“Just relax, you’re fine, sexy, and safe,” he stated in a low gravel as he stroked Brock’s curls. “Anyone would love to fuck you, and there ain’t no reason to fear pleasure.”

Brock sighed as he reluctantly though easily melted into Jose’s touch, like wax dripping down a lit candle. He begrudgingly realized that he enjoyed relenting, reveled in giving himself over to reassuring words and sensual caresses and finding strength in his surrender. Brock knew that later on it wouldn’t be as easy and he certainly wouldn’t be as relaxed but in the moment he was content getting lost in Jose and his soft embrace and longed-for encouragement.

———

They had been meeting for over a month. Each time got better but Brock still couldn’t fully let go, as if they had opened the lock to his inner most insecurities but the door was still firmly closed, trapping the troublesome thoughts in his head. Brock realized, however, that Jose was determined to break the door down, as if he got a sense of pride being the one to put Brock at ease. Brock liked it too, much more than he expected to and much more than he knew he should. They had been close before but nothing like this. Jose had always drawn him in like a tide to shore only for Brock recede into the ocean once more. This time, however, the sea carried them both as one, together reaching the warm sand or fighting through rough waves. This was different from when they were first together, it was freeing and promising and wonderful and Brock only hoped that Jose felt the change too and recognized what they had.

The door bell rang, shaking Brock from his thoughts and he eagerly went to answer it. Jose came inside bringing his radiance with him, like a shooting star blazing through the night sky. They smiled and talked and laughed and Brock had nearly forgotten why Jose had come over before he looked toward Brock’s bedroom and motioned for Brock to follow him.

Brock took off his clothes and got on the bed. He’d usually lie down and close his eyes, the position Jose preferred him in both to help him stay calm and to not know what was coming. Today, however, he leaned back on his elbows so that he’d be able to watch Jose disrobe, a part of their tryst that Brock longed to see. He really was beautiful, glowing and precious, firm muscles encased by smooth, velvet skin, and Brock gazed upon him with reverent desire. While their emotional connection seemed to be growing, its roots strong and deep allowing new flowers to grow, their sexual connection revolved solely on Brock and what he needed to break through, though what Brock truly needed was Jose.

It became somewhat of a brutal tease, Jose indulging him both mentally and physically and getting him almost there before pulling away. It didn’t take long for Brock to get aroused during their time together, the lure of Jose’s touch enough to set his body alight, despite the burdensome war in his mind. Brock saw the signs in Jose too, the way his face would flush and his throat would dry, and his underwear, which he always kept on, would strain over his unignorable hardness. He’d get too close and Brock would tense, out of nerves and uncertainty and anticipation, and Jose would retreat, leaving both himself and Brock unsatisfied.

They had still yet to talk about it. How they both seemed to fill with lust bare in each other’s embrace though ultimately got pleasure on their own. Jose usually fled to the bathroom or rushed to put on his clothes and go, leaving Brock to touch himself to possibilities, to memories of what Jose looked like in the throes passion and the intense hunger to see it again.

“Take them off,” Brock heard himself say as he watched Jose undress. “Please,” he added, almost begging.

“You sure?” Jose softly questioned, hardly sounding like himself.

“I am,” Brock replied, trying to keep the anticipation out of his voice.

Jose nodded slightly, their eyes meeting as a he slowly pulled down his black briefs and kicked them away.

He approached the bed and briefly glanced down at Brock before crawling over him, their naked bodies momentarily touching and Brock gasped, before Jose was then kneeling next to him.

Brock wanted to say something but for once all the thoughts clogging his brain were gone, replaced by Jose and his delicate, caring hands and short, quiet breathes and tender gaze. Instead, he simply lolled back onto his pillow and shut his eyes, blanketed in the intensity of the man by his side.

Jose then leaned down, closer than Brock had even felt him since they started this, and began speaking as his hand slowly traveled lower and lower. Brock’s legs opened easily for Jose as he raked his digits down his thighs and closer to his opening. Noting that Brock didn’t clench, Jose reached for lube, rubbing it between his palms before advancing toward Brock. Brock felt Jose enter him and released a unrestrained groan, spurring Jose to continue. He gradually added more fingers but all Brock was concentrating on was the heat from Jose’s mouth that tickled his ear as he spoke honeyed words in a low growl. Brock felt himself open as Jose moved inside him and gasped when the tips of his fingers brushed against something that made electricity shoot up Brock’s spine.

“Please, more,” Brock pleaded between heavy pants usually reserved for hiking.

Jose continued his ministrations, harder and more persistent, while his lips still lingered just out of reach as he kept speaking.

“Come on baby, you’re doing so good,” Brock heard Jose mutter. “So, so good for me.”

Brock briefly opened his eyes to finally take in that it truly was Jose, with all his allure and sweetness and sensuality, who was within him in this moment and the realization was like lightening through his veins as he let out a lascivious moan before releasing himself on his stomach.

He gradually sat up, noticing that Jose was trying not to look at him as he went to get up from the bed. Brock’s hand shot out instantly, grabbing Jose’s wrist and finally making him turn back towards him.

“Let me rim you,” Brock breathlessly implored.

“What?” Jose questioned, sounding as though he hadn’t heard Brock right.

“Let me rim you,” he repeated as he found his voice. It was as if Jose and his warmth and his gentle encouragement were Brock’s suit of armor and with it he could take on anything.

“I want to. I need to,” Brock nearly begged as his hand migrated from Jose’s wrist to faintly rest on his hip.

He saw Jose gulp, as if fighting with himself about what to do.

“Okay,” Jose agreed hoarsely as he fell back into bed and Brock immediately went to put his mouth on him.

They’re still naked together in Brock’s bed afterward, Jose leaning into the pillow he propped against the headboard while Brock rested closely against him his head nearly on Jose’s chest. Brock reveled in how ethereal he now felt, the soothing beat of Jose’s heart the only thing grounding him and preventing him from floating away.

“Do you want to do something?” Brock asked hopefully as he looked up at Jose with a small grin.

“I thought we just did,” Jose replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“No,” Brock answered sitting up. “Nothing sexual this time,” he assured him. “Just you and me going out together, for dinner or maybe even just a walk. I’m so used to seeing the sun rise that it’s about time I saw it set,” Brock blushed. “And it’d be nice to see it with you.”

“Oh,” Jose replied flatly as he pulled away from Brock and got out of the bed to begin getting dressed. “I’ve, um, I’ve actually been talking to someone,” he continued, eyes never meeting Brock’s. “And I don’t wanna mess anything up.”

Brock froze as he took in Jose’s words, as if a jagged scissor had been taken to his newly acquired wings, making Brock slam mercilessly and painfully back to Earth.

“So a date might mess things up but fucking your ex is completely fine,” Brock seethed.

Jose looked up at him from buttoning his jeans. He opened his mouth to try to reply but Brock bitterly continued.

“You called me,” Brock started as he stood up. “You reached out and volunteered for this. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought it was just sex,” Jose argued, now getting just as heated.

“It’s us, Jose. You know it’s never just sex,” Brock admitted.

“Don’t start none of this shit with me,” Jose harshly challenged. “And don’t act all innocent neither. You know how many times you pulled this on me and now you gonna play the victim? Bitch, that knife cuts both ways and you can’t be a victim when you also stabbing me in the back.”

“You let me eat you out,” Brock countered as Jose’s words filled him with more rage and hurt. “After all of this you have to know it’s not just physical. You know how intimate that was for me and I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t lo-,” Brock stopped himself as his eyes locked with Jose’s, whose features were now painted with surprise. “That was not just sex and you know it.”

“I didn’t know what else to do. You said you needed to do it,” Jose meekly defended.

“So you felt sorry for me?”

“I thought I was helping,” Jose cried. “You was finally getting over yourself and getting into it so I thought you were just rolling with it.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Brock spat. He had never spoken to Jose like this, not even during their worst fights but it was like he couldn’t stop, as if his heart of glass had shattered and all his acidity and sorrow was now seeping out.

“I don’t need your lies and I sure as hell don’t need your pity,” Brock fumed. “In case you forgot I know how to fuck and I certainly don’t need your help to do it.”

“Know what? I don’t need you and your emotionally stunted white boy ass neither,” Jose replied cruelly as he pulled on his T-shirt. “We ain’t boyfriends, we barely lovers, and I don’t know the last time I really thought of you as a friend.”

“So leave,” Brock stated as he tried to stop his voice from cracking and his tears from escaping. “If I’m not a good enough friend and I certainly wasn’t a good enough boyfriend then what are you even still doing here?”

With that Jose grabbed his things without another word and stormed out. Brock heard the front door slam as he crumpled back onto his bed and felt all of his desire and remorse and fury and pain spill from his eyes and pour down his cheeks, nearly drowning him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jose was the one who started this, he had seen Brock at his most vulnerable, when his heart was laid bare with only his trust in Jose to guide him, but now it was clear he was willing to let it all go so easily, to let Brock go so easily, after everything he had seen. Jose had deceived him, lied to him, gotten his hopes up and made him expose his body and soul to him all for nothing. Brock’s burning anger was now tinged with embarrassment, at the thought that him and Jose could work things out, while Jose had had eyes for another from the start.
> 
> As Brock deals with the aftermath of learning that Jose has been talking with another guy, he is unsure if their feelings are strong enough for their relationship to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the second and final chapter of this fic. I wanted to thank all of you for being so kind and wonderful and reading and liking and commenting on the first chapter since it definitely motivated me to get this posted as soon as I could. I hope you all enjoy it💜

Brock felt like a dead man walking. Jose was gone and so was the warmth that he had grown so accustomed to, the light that he needed to grow and to bloom. It had been two days since their fight, since Brock experienced both healing and heartbreak, and the bed that he had hardly left continued to smell like sunshine, as if Jose was still there. His spicy colognes and boisterous laugh still hung in the air despite the silence shouting at Brock, making him feel even more fragile than before. He had yet to sleep and was too weary to hike, all of Brock’s energy regretfully centered on reliving and over analyzing the last time he and Jose spoke.

_Emotionally stunted_ was what Jose had called him. Brock knew that it took him a while to open up. A childhood of readily shed tears and softness let him know just how fragile he was and just how much he had to harden his heart for risk of it shattering too easily. But Brock had thought that he was improving, that the stone in his chest was beginning to crumble bit by bit, Jose’s encouragement and acceptance like a chisel carving through his fears and insecurities. He believed Jose understood, that he could see that Brock was trying and that he would wait for him, but maybe he wasn’t worth it. It had taken Brock so long to realize what he needed, to be able to welcome and surround himself with warmth, for the frost in his veins to melt away. Why would Jose delay his happiness for Brock, and why did Brock expect him to?

His mind started to drift to how he was during their relationship, when everything was new and exciting and hopeful. Brock was always honest with Jose even then, even when that honesty wound up scarring them both. While reticent at first, Brock believed that their wounds could be healed with even more honesty, as if unlocking the most vulnerable parts of himself would help strengthen them both. But maybe Brock was wrong. Maybe exposing more of himself and his demons only made things worse, only made Jose leave to save his own light and narrowly escape Brock’s darkness. He had hoped that they could work through it together, that their love, in whatever form it was, would be able to burn bright enough to illuminate them both.

_I don’t know the last time I thought of you as a friend_. That comment shattered Brock most of all, like an heirloom vase carelessly swiped to the ground. He tried to think back on them just a mere month ago, attempted to remember what they were like before they got swept up in this unruly tornado of longing and doubt and lust and feelings. Brock believed they were friends, knew he was closer to Jose than nearly anyone in his life, and trusted that Jose felt the same. They spoke everyday, whether through a quick text or a long FaceTime, and it seemed as though Jose never truly left Brock’s mind. He’d reach out to him anytime he saw something funny or something that made him think of Jose, Brock’s text of a Yorkie that he swore had Jose’s eyes started their new habit of sending each other cute animal videos.

Brock always relished the times he got to interact with Jose, to know that he was thinking of Brock as Brock was thinking of him. He had believed that Jose was good with the way things were between them, that he could make Jose smirk and laugh and beam, but maybe it wasn’t enough. Brock dejectedly sat up and reached for his phone on the bedside table. He remorsefully went to Jose’s Instagram, reviewing all the teasing, flirty comments he had left and trying to avoid gazing too long at pictures of the queen and the man he still ached for.

He saw his own comments and replies full of nicknames and compliments and cute, flirtatious emojis, a now bitter huff of laughter and a sad half-smile even crossing his face at a few of their more suggestive exchanges. But then he started to notice another account commenting almost as much as he did, with equally as affectionate emojis and praise. He didn’t seem to be a fan, as Brock was somehow already more than familiar with the majority of Vanjie stans, and the more he looked through the man’s posts, both on Jose’s pictures and on his own account, Brock understood that this was the man Jose had been _talking to_.

At that moment it was as if Brock’s veins were pumping gasoline and this realization was like a lit match, igniting his body in flames of pain and fury and betrayal. Jose was the one who started this, he had seen Brock at his most vulnerable, when his heart was laid bare with only his trust in Jose to guide him, but now it was clear he was willing to let it all go so easily, to let Brock go so easily, after everything he had seen. Jose had deceived him, lied to him, gotten his hopes up and made him expose his body and soul to him all for nothing. Brock’s burning anger was now tinged with embarrassment, at the thought that him and Jose could work things out, while Jose had had eyes for another from the start.

Brock gripped his phone tightly in his hand as he stood up from his bed and marched into his living room. He grit his teeth in exasperation before loosening his hold and hurrying to swipe open his contact list. Despite the rage swirling in his gut, Brock pressed his name with certainty. He answered after two rings.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Brock began harshly. “Come over, please, I need you.”

———

Brock was still in the living room when heard a knock at the door. He quickly got up to answer it, pulling the man inside even before they could greet each other. Brock frantically brought the man closer to him, his hands fisting his shirt, and began hungrily kissing him, as if his mouth and affection were the only way to satisfy Brock’s craving for love and acceptance and care. The man kissed back slightly but stopped when he felt Brock start to remove his top.

“What are we doing here?” Andres questioned, his hands resting on Brock’s shoulders to separate them as they looked at each other.

Brock once again closed the distance between them and began mouthing and sucking at Andres’ neck before kissing his way up toward his ear.

“I want you to fuck me,” Brock breathed desperately, attempting to be seductive through his near pleading.

“What?” Andres challenged as he stepped back and out of Brock’s hold. “Where is this all coming from?” he continued. “You’ve never wanted to-”

“Don’t, I know, I’m sure, just, please,” Brock pressed, trying to reassure him as much as his exhausted mind and battered heart could. “I want your dick inside me right now,” he stated more bluntly and forcibly as he hauled Andres to the bedroom. “Please.”

Andres could tell that Brock wouldn’t let him refuse as he had never been this insistent about sex before. He tried to slow Brock down, to help them ease into whatever they were doing, but Brock had already removed his own clothes. Brock looked over at Andres with intensity in his gaze, as he moved to start determinedly removing the other man’s clothes. Brock prayed that every new inch of Andres’ skin that he revealed would help erase his desire for a shorter, louder man, a man who obviously didn’t want him.

Brock brought Andres in for another rough kiss, hoping that the warmth of another man’s lips would feel like the sun and make all his resentment and dejection and disappointment evaporate. He released Andres after their kiss and still felt as though a dark rain cloud was hanging over him. He immediately went to his side table, reaching for the lube that was just where Jose left it, and taking a condom out of the drawer.

“Come on,” Brock firmly encouraged as he tossed the supplies onto his bed before climbing in himself.

Andres reluctantly crawled onto the bed next to Brock who had already shut his eyes. He saw Brock bracing himself as he spread his legs and Andres let out an exasperated sigh before he leaned down and began to tongue Brock’s opening. Brock was able to slightly release the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, the act something they had done in the past and something Brock fairly enjoyed. He tried to surrender to the wet, tingling sensation and find comfort in the familiarity but his mind refused, maintaining its hold on Jose and what he would be feeling if Jose was the one doing this to him.

Brock internally cursed himself as he struggled to get the younger man out of his head. He yearned for the time was Jose was just a longing, when he held and caressed him in his dreams and nothing more. Brock hated how he had given in to Jose, to desires that he knew couldn’t and shouldn’t be satisfied. He had known since they first got together years ago that the problem with wanting Jose was that he wanted him all the time. He knew that once he had Jose, had his attention and his touch, his sweetness and his passion, that there would be no going back. But Jose didn’t want him. Brock had taken Jose for granted and lost his chance and that door was shut for good.

He felt Andres grab and raise his thigh to bring himself even closer into Brock. Brock let out a passive groan as he was momentarily brought back to the moment and what Andres was doing to him. He couldn’t help but wonder if he and Jose would ever again do something like this, caress each other, embrace each other. After their first breakup Brock believed that he would never be with Jose again but he had delightedly been proven wrong. But Brock knew this time was different. They knew each other better, had experienced more together, Brock maybe even loved Jose more. He questioned if Jose would even talk to him again now, and what he would do if he didn’t.

The thought of never speaking to Jose again was too much for Brock to bear. Though Brock had wanted so much more from his relationship with him, still wanted if he was being honest with himself, he’d gladly agree to just be friends if it meant keeping someone this important in his life. Brock decided that he could live with the ache in his chest if it meant getting to have even the smallest part of Jose. He hoped that one day he’d be able to see Jose smile again and maybe even have Jose smile at him. He had to make things right somehow, or at least let Jose know how he felt about him, whatever the outcome, Jose too wonderful for him not to know.

While still wandering through the forest of his mind, Brock heard a cap open and Andres faintly ask him something. He opened his eyes and subtly nodded despite not fully listening to the question. All of a sudden Brock sensed Andres begin open him up and he swiftly shot up. Everything that he had worked out with Jose, all the confidence and comfort that he had supposedly built up, gone in an instant.

Brock quickly drew his knees to his chest, attempting to shield everything that was now exposed, his body, his insecurities, his failure. He struggled to breathe as he saw Andres yank his hand away and eye him with surprise and concern. Brock felt like he was back in grade school and was called up in front of the class, back when the barriers around his heart had yet to be built and his emotions and frailty could be used against him. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or hide, if he should try to explain himself or just ignore it all, but all Brock could think in that moment was how much he needed Jose and how much he wished he was there with him.

“I’m sorry,” Brock ashamedly murmured as he began to catch his breath.

“No, I’m sorry,” Andres replied remorsefully as he reached for his clothes. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

He finished getting dressed while Brock remained on the bed, his body now covered by his comforter.

“You want me to stay?” Andre asked sincerely. “I want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I am, really,” Brock softly answered as he looked him in the eyes.

“I’m trusting you,” Andre said as he gently pecked Brock’s slightly sweaty forehead. “Promise to call me if you need anything,” he cautioned.

“I won’t, but, I will,” Brock assured him. “Thanks,” he finished with a bittersweet half smile before Andres nodded at him and turned to leave.

———

Brock stayed in his bed for a while after Andres left, cradling Henry in his search for warmth and solace, holding him the way Brock wished he could be held. He imagined this to be what Jose had felt at times, believing Brock didn’t want him and trying to find relief with someone else, trying to heal himself but only getting sicker since the real cure was being with one another. Brock understood why they both continued to surrender to each other, to the hurt and the happiness and the hunger. He realized what he had already known, that their time together was special because Jose was special, because his heart and his love were extraordinary and near impossible to live without.

With that he shifted his cat and his covers off of him and finally got up. He searched for his phone, now anxious to call Jose, but froze before pressing his name. Brock sighed and sat back down on the bed and buried his face in his hands, his mind like a hurricane flooding his head with worries and thoughts of what could go wrong. He took some deep breaths and thought of Jose once again, the man like the sun beaming through the clouds. He recalled all the things that he had said to him in this room, in this bed, about how he was strong and capable and safe and good, and Brock stood up again, throwing on his clothes before hurrying out the door.

———

Brock insistently knocked on Jose’s apartment door and felt his heart hammering in time with it. The door swung open and there was Jose, his closeness luring Brock in despite the look of surprise on his face.

“I couldn’t do it,” Brock achingly blurted out, not knowing exactly what else to say and preoccupied by Jose’s familiar scent and captivating eyes.

“What?” Jose questioned as he eyed him skeptically.

“I tried to bottom for someone else and I couldn’t do it because I only want to do it with you,” Brock rushed out. “It only feels right with you,” he finished, now slower and more emphatic as he looked down at Jose.

“Brock-”

“I’m sorry,” Brock said gently and genuinely, fighting to keep his arms at his sides to not caress and soothe Jose the way he wanted to.

“Look, you don’t-,” Jose started but Brock cut him off.

“No listen,” Brock insisted. “I’m sorry. Not just for the other day but for all of it. You don’t deserve how I know I made you feel and for all the confusion and damage I caused. I should’ve never made you feel anything less than special because you are,” Brock exclaimed as he began to choke up. “You’re so special and loving and wonderful and I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that for even a second,” Brock managed to continue despite his voice nearly breaking. “You make me feel so good, so much more than I am, when really everything you said about me was right. I haven’t been good to you and I get it and I’m sorry I over stepped and-”

“Brock,” Jose stopped him by repeating his name, trying to sound firm but his voice wavered as Brock saw his lip quiver and his eyes glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to protect yourself from me. Like you had to hide your heart because of me,” Brock finished as he hesitantly stood before Jose awaiting his reply.

“You didn’t-, I don’t-, I’m sorry too,” Jose began once he could find the words and swallow back his tears. “I ain’t gonna try and tell you that I went into all this not expecting to catch feelings, cause that’d just be a lie, and I think we seen enough of those. To be really real, I don’t know what I was doing,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I was trying to get you back or prove that we was over all our bullshit or if I was strong enough to resist you and your silliness and your sweetness, cause you all them things boo,” Jose tenderly and unconsciously grinned causing Brock to mirror his expression. “At first I was just tryna get you and that ass to relax but it was like my heart was climbing outta my throat and I started saying all the things that I felt about you, that I never stopped feeling ‘bout you. That’s why I hadda get myself a new man.”

Brock could tell how much pain Jose was in talking about this, his usual jovial tone replaced with a quiet flatness and his voice seemed even gruffer as he was straining not to cry.

“I knew if I let myself I’d fall right back down that dark and twisty ass rabbit hole, fall right on back into you and I just didn’t wanna let myself do that with no promises of nothing,” Jose exclaimed as Brock remorsefully hung his head, knowing that he was the cause of much of Jose’s hesitancy and doubt.

“But know that it wasn’t just you feeling some typpa way,” Jose assured as Brock brought his head back up to look at him. “I mighta been trying to avoid the rabbit hole but your soft, magnetic, flirtatious ass still managed to pull me right on in. Shit, I willing carried my ass right back in cause how could I not?” Jose smirked again. “You was giving me everything I ever really wanted from you,” he blushed as he looked down at the floor and wrapped his arms around himself.

Brock wanted to reach out and hold Jose, have it be his arms that were wrapped around him. But a part of him still didn’t know if he could so he instead moved closer to him, imploring Jose to continue as he noticed his tears had returned.

“You was giving me sensitivity and pining all in a fine, chiseled Canadian package,” Jose finished with his usual sass, laughing as tears, which Brock now realized were from happiness, trickled down his face. “You finally my Ryan Gosling giving me my Prince Charming Notebook fantasy,” Jose said with a smile that Brock couldn’t help but return. “And now I know this ain’t no hit it and quit it. You mean business this time boo.”

“It’s not, and I do, I swear,” Brock genuinely and tenderly affirmed, though his brain still had a sliver of worry that he couldn’t seem to hold in. “But what about-”

“I ended it,” Jose answered, knowing Brock’s shy, anxious mind and already anticipating the question. “We was just talking anyway, nothing serious or nothing,” he reassured. “Ain’t nothing like me and you.”

At that Brock let out a dainty, relieved giggle, his cheeks turning pink as he blushed with happiness over Jose’s affirmation.

“But what about you?” Jose asked quietly, almost afraid, his face not nearly as bright as Brock’s. “What about you and your almost future husband?”

“We got a certain present divorce,” Brock said with a small smirk as he saw Jose’s smile bloom. “I like him and I hope we’re still friends but it’s different. He isn’t you.”

They both inched even closer toward each other, the two men bashful and giddy and hopeful. It was as if they were in the midst of a sun shower, their uncertainties having been washed away while basking in each other’s warm glow. Brock gently leaned in to stroke Jose’s cheek as Jose ran a hand down Brock’s chest.

“Do you wanna come in, maybe get in a little more practice?” Jose questioned seductively, his gaze full of of adoration and lust.

“We could but,” Brock looked over his shoulder toward the horizon. “Looks like the sun’s setting. Want to go on that hike first?”

Jose bit his lip, attempting to rein in his smile before getting up on his tip toes to plant a soft peck on Brock’s lips, both men able to feel the other smiling into the kiss.

“Lead the way Twinkle Toes,” Jose beamed as he closed his door and reached for Brock’s outstretched hand, linking their fingers as they walked happily together to start climbing towards the sun.


End file.
